Conception of Loss
by HLJ137
Summary: At the inn in Lyme, Anne and Captain Benwick discuss love and loss. Their conversation has some unintended consequences when it gets relayed to Captain Wentworth.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is an expansion of the conversation between Anne and Captain Benwick that happens at the end of Chapter 11 of the novel. It is also inspired by the same scene in the 1995 adaptation, so those of who you are familiar with that version will probably recognize opening dialogue. I hope you enjoy! And as always reviews are very much appreciated :) Thanks for reading!_

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It had been an adventurous day for the party in Lyme, and everyone was glad of the respite provided by an evening spent in each other's company at the inn. The conversation was good and the group lively, but circumstances being what they were, Anne and Captain Benwick naturally drifted apart from the rest of the group. It was not long before they found themselves rather alone at one corner of the room.

As they sat apart from the others and discussed poetry, Anne found herself recognizing somewhat of a kindred spirit in Captain Benwick. She was glad that Harville had seen fit to bring Benwick with him to the inn tonight, for it seemed to Anne that Benwick was greatly in need of an acquaintance, and acquaintance who could sympathize with his broken heart… Well, so much the better, Anne thought.

As she listened to him quote the melancholy and dismal lines of poetry, Anne could not help but see feelings she recognized all too well reflected in Captain Benwick's expressions. She knew how he must be feeling. Though he knew it not, she had felt similar heartbreak herself.

Anne listened as he told her about the love of his life, his mistake in making her wait, and the eternal grief he suffered from her loss. In her best attempt to cheer him up, Anne carefully recommended he read more prose in his daily study, and less verse.

Benwick smiled forlornly at her. "Thank you for your kindness," he said quietly, "but you cannot know the depths of my despair."

Anne's gaze was sympathetic when she replied, "Come now Captain Benwick, you will rally again. You must."

He shook his head in misery, not willing to hear her talk of optimism. "You have no conception of what I have lost," he assured her bitterly.

Anne looked at him earnestly, doing her best to meet his eyes and convey to him that she understood his feelings, and whispered, "Yes, I have."

Benwick shook his head once more, leaned back in his chair, and sighed bitterly. "How could you?" he muttered sharply, but not unkindly.

Anne looked down at her hands. She wanted to sympathize with Captain Benwick, to let him know that she perfectly understood what it is like to love and to lose. What is more, if she were honest with herself, she desperately needed someone to confide in and share feelings with as well. However, Anne was afraid of saying too much.

Anne sighed and looked back at Benwick once more. Her silence and evasion had perplexed him somewhat, and he was looking at her in slight puzzlement. Finally, she murmured, "I do know what you have lost, Captain Benwick…" Anne paused, trying to resist glancing around the room to ensure that no one could hear her, before adding, "I too lost the person I loved more than anyone."

Benwick stared at her in surprise for a moment. He leaned forward once more, his interest piqued. "Did you? When?"

Anne nodded sadly and glanced down again. She had to focus her gaze on her hands to avoid looking to the other side of the room to where Captain Wentworth was talking to Harville. She did not think he could hear her, and though her instinct was to look toward him as she spoke about him, she feared giving too much away. If she were to look at him now, she knew her feelings would be discerned easily enough from her expressions, and Benwick was intelligent enough to put the pieces together. Therefore, Anne suppressed the urge and focused on her clasped hands, though she tried not to wring them.

"Eight years ago," she whispered, unconsciously lowering her voice in fear that she might be overheard.

Benwick sensed her discomfort, but thankfully it appeared that he thought it came only from discussing her own loss, and not from the fear of her past being discovered. "So," he sighed with a hushed voice, "perhaps then you can understand my passion for Scott and Byron."

Despite herself, Anne smiled. "Yes, Captain, I understand perfectly," she assured him. "However, that is also why I must warn you away from too much verse, for it is the great misfortune of poetry to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoy it completely."

"I suppose," Benwick exhaled. "But then, how else am I to find expression for the great depths of my anguish, if not in poetry?"

"Perhaps," Anne said with an indulgent little smile, "you might find it in conversation with those who understand you."

Benwick returned her smile, albeit a bit more dejectedly. "Perhaps you are correct there, Miss Anne," he said. "So tell me then, you who have suffered as I have, what am I to do now?" He paused before adding, "how did you move on? How did you, as you say, rally again?"

Anne began to reply, but all she could do was sigh. Benwick looked so earnest, so very much in need of an answer, but Anne feared that in this, she could not help him. She did not want to increase his despair, but she would not lie to him. At last, she whispered despondently, "perhaps I was a bit duplicitous in saying such a thing, for I do not know that I did move on, Captain."

Benwick exhaled and nodded sadly. "I feared as much." In a vain attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "your knowledge of the great poets of our time would not have been quite so extensive had you rallied as you suggested."

Anne laughed sadly and nodded. "I suppose you are correct there," she admitted. "But you must do what you can for yourself Captain Benwick," she told him, earnest in her desire to help him through his pain. "You must find comfort in the Harvilles," she said, "they are good people, they care about you, and they share your love for the one you have lost."

"Yes," Benwick agreed, "I am fortunate to have been taken in by them, for the memory of Fanny unites us, and I know Harville shares my grief, though he has dealt with it better." Anne nodded in agreement, and Benwick asked curiously, "who did you turn to in your time of need, all those years ago?"

Anne smiled ruefully and dropped her gaze. With a shrug, she muttered, "I had no one who shared my grief." After a painful pause, she added, "I am afraid that those who were around me did not understand it, and did not care to."

She said no more, and Benwick sensed she did not wish to expand, so he did not ask for an explanation. Instead, he sighed, "Perhaps it is simply the fate of some to love and to lose in this life, Miss Anne."

Anne nodded sadly and their conversation lapsed. Benwick, lost in his own thoughts and his own turmoil, turned his forlorn gaze into the fire at their side. Now that she had no more to say and no talk to distract her, Anne found that she could no longer resist the unseeable force which had been pulling her gaze to the far side of the room during their conversation. She watched as Captain Wentworth and Captain Harville regaled their company with stories of their adventures around the world, and she sighed. Though Anne knew better than to indulge her darker thoughts, her conversation with Benwick had brought them to the forefront, and she could not help but ardently wish that she was the one standing by Captain Wentworth's side, laughing as he shared his stories with his friends.

Anne knew she was staring, but her dismal spirit pushed all worries of propriety to the side. As she watched, Captain Wentworth finished his story, and Captain Harville took the floor. Captain Wentworth fell silent as his friend talked away, and after a few moments, he stole a glance to the other side of the room. Perhaps his eyes were pulled toward her by the same unobservable force that pulled hers to him. Whatever the case, he was astonished to find Anne's eyes on him, and for a long moment their eyes met before Anne looked away. His smile faded away as he watched her. She looked so sad that it nearly broke his heart. He desperately wanted to go say something to her, but he knew better. She would not want him to anyway. Resisting the urge to sigh, he left Anne to Benwick's company and returned to his conversation, albeit with far less enthusiasm than he had previously enjoyed.

Anne looked back at Benwick as he contemplated the flames that leapt before him, resigning herself to share in his heartbroken fate of love and loss.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: So I originally intended the first chapter of this to be a one-shot, but then this chapter just sort of wrote itself in my mind, so I decided to share it. I'm leaving this story on "complete" for now, as I'm not sure whether I will continue it or not, but I may add more. Pease let me know what you think! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy :)_

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At the close of the evening, Harville and Benwick reluctantly left the pleasant company at the inn and began their return journey to Harville's house. Impulsively, Frederick decided to join them on their walk home. He relished the chance to spend some time alone with his old friends, and they welcomed his company and conversation. They began by discussing Harville's new abode, but they soon exhausted that line of conversation, and, as might be expected of a group of young men who have just left the company of pleasant young women, it was not long before the conversation turned to a discussion of the ladies whose company they had so recently quitted.

"Well, Wentworth," exclaimed Harville, with a friendly clap on the shoulder, "you sure did seem to enjoy the company of the Musgrove girls this evening!" he laughed.

Frederick laughed with him, returning his brotherly banter. "They are fine young women," he responded noncommittally.

Harville chuckled and turned to their other companion. "And you, Benwick," he said "you spent quite a lot of time talking to Miss Anne Elliot." He smiled suggestively at Benwick, but Benwick did not return his smile.

Though Harville's tone was teasing, Benwick found his mood to be a shade darker than his friend's. "Yes, well..." he sighed, "she can sympathize with me in ways I had not previously imagined anyone could."

Frederick, who was by this time walking a step behind the other two, looked up at Benwick in surprise. Harville, too, looked confused for a moment before he asked, "really? How so?"

Benwick looked back at Frederick, who quickly did his best to hide his interest in the conversation and look indifferent. "Well, you know the lady best, Wentworth," Benwick pronounced. Frederick resisted smirking at how unaware Benwick was of the truth of his statement. Continuing, Benwick asked, "How much do you know of her past?"

Frederick shrugged, feigning ignorance to the best of his ability. He was relieved to find his voice fairly steady when he asked, "her past?"

Benwick smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes, her past." Frederick simply stared at him, not trusting himself to say more. Benwick assumed that meant Frederick had no idea what he was getting at, so he told them, "She told me she too had lost the one she loved."

The color drained from Frederick's face, and he was glad he was walking behind his companions. If they happened to look back, he hoped the darkness of the night would be enough to conceal his reactions.

"Really?" Harville asked in astonishment. "She conceals her grief rather well," he mused, "I would never have guessed." Frederick grimaced, wondering how much grief Anne could still feel after all this time. After a pause, Harville asked the same question Benwick had asked of Anne: "How long ago was this?"

Frederick was relieved that Harville had asked the question. He desperately wanted to know the answer, but he did not trust himself to ask it with appropriate indifference. When Benwick replied, "eight years ago, she said," Frederick let out a breath that he had not before realized he had been holding.

Harville whistled in surprise. After another pause, he asked, "is that why she has not yet married, do you think?"

Benwick shrugged. "If it is, I can understand that decision," he murmured dejectedly.

Harville sensed that Benwick was about to lapse into painful silence again, as he was wont to do lately, so Harville attempted to bring Frederick back into the conversation. "What do you make of this, Wentworth?" He asked, half-turning to where his friend walked behind him. When Frederick did not immediately reply, Harville attempted to lighten the mood by joking, "has Benwick uncovered the reason Miss Anne is become a spinster?"

Frederick tried to chuckle at Harville's joke, but, annoyed as he was by the comment, he feared his laugh did not come across as at all convincing. "I think," he groaned, "you two are worse gossips than the ladies."

Harville, taken aback by his friend's sudden ill humor, looked questioningly at him. "And why should we not be?" He asked. Teasingly, he added, "I'm sure the Musgrove girls are chatting just as much about _you_ at the moment."

Frederick frowned. "Yes, I do not doubt they are. But you were speaking of Miss Elliot, and I hardly think she is joining the others in gossiping about us. Perhaps we should do her the same courtesy," he muttered.

The statements were out before Frederick had thought them through. The minute he uttered them, he wished them unsaid. Both of his companions stopped walking and turned toward him. Frederick could feel the color rising in his face and he was once again thankful for the cover of darkness.

"What's gotten into Captain Wentworth, Benwick?" Harville asked. His voice retained a bit of the joking tone it had taken on before, but it was now laced with concern for and interest in his friend.

Benwick squinted at Frederick. "I hardly know, Harville," he replied. "I'm not sure what to make of him, but he seems awfully affected by our conversation."

Frederick glared at them. The more they talked, the less inclined he was to take part in their jests.

"I can't think why," Harville responded. "Unless," he teased with a smile, "there is something he is not telling us."

Frederick was suddenly afraid that they would push him for answers which he did not care to give. He sought for a way to shift the focus of the conversation. He knew he should change the subject entirely, but he found he earnestly wanted to know more about Benwick's conversation with Anne. So, in an attempt to at least get the attention off himself, he said, "Fine, if you two want to gossip, then gossip we shall." Hoping that this seeming reluctance would give his question some cover, he asked, "What else did Miss Elliot tell you, Benwick?"

Knowing his friend as well as he did, Benwick suspected that Frederick was avoiding something. However, he took pity on his friend, turned around, and resumed walking. Frederick once again fell to the back as Benwick said, "she only told me that she lost the person she loved eight years ago, and that she never moved on. I did not press her for details."

Frederick abruptly stopped.

Had he heard that right?

Could it really be that Anne had not forgotten him?

Had she truly never moved on?

Suddenly an image of her face filled his mind. He could not help but recall the dismal, longing look he had observed when their eyes had met across the room that evening. Could that look have been for him? For them? For what they could have been? It was more than Frederick dared hope for, but the mere thought of it consumed him.

Harville and Benwick had walked a few paces ahead before they realized Frederick was no longer following. When they realized he had fallen behind, Harville turned and called, "Are you alright Wentworth?"

Frederick blinked. "Um, yes, I-I'm fine," he stuttered unconvincingly. Striding past them before they had a chance to ask any more questions, Frederick was relieved to find that they had approached Harville's home. "This is your door, Harville?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. When Harville nodded, Frederick said, "well then gentlemen, this is where I must leave you. I shall return to the inn for the evening. Good night."

He tipped his hat to them and was gone without another word, leaving his companions staring after him in confusion.

Frederick felt wrong treating his friends so rudely, but he was entirely unable to endure any further prying from them. If it were anyone else, anyone other than _her_, he would have gladly told his friends about the woman he had loved who had decided he was not good enough. He would have shared his story and rejoiced in his triumph, having returned to town rich on prize money to find his old flame a lonely spinster.

But it wasn't anyone else.

It was her.

_Anne._

And with Anne, Frederick had no desire to make light of their past. He could not rejoice in his triumph, for he did not feel triumphant. Indeed, all he felt was regret for what could have been. He had avoided her all evening, for even conversing with her made him long for more, long for _her_, and long for what they once had. The thought of her as a lonely spinster brought him no comfort; instead, her pain and loneliness only doubled his own.

It was more than he could bear to even remember their past, let alone tell his friends about it. He could hardly even act composed when he heard her name. How was he supposed to act indifferent upon hearing that she had never forgotten him, when he had to admit to himself that he had never forgotten her either?

Frederick sighed in frustration. Given his errant behavior this evening, Harville and Benwick were sure to bring this subject up again, and he would not be able to escape their questioning forever. He sought in vain for an excuse for his behavior, but none was forthcoming.

To his dismay, Frederick reached the inn before he had even begun to compose his thoughts. It was late by this time, and upon opening the inn's door, he was relieved to find that the ladies had all retired to their respective chambers. He was in no mood to face anyone tonight; he had not the courage to entertain the Musgrove girls nor any idea of what he would say should he meet Anne in the hall.

Frederick quietly made his way to his own chamber, but as he passed the door he knew to be assigned to Anne, he could not help but cast a longing glance at her door, wondering what she was thinking and doing at the moment.

Little did he know that behind that very door, Anne lay in her bed, wide awake and consumed by thoughts very near his own.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So… yeah, I guess this story is going to continue :) I don't know how long it will be yet, but I guess I'll keep it going as long as you all are enjoying it. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed/reviewed, it really means a lot to me! You all are the best!__ Enjoy :)  
_

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The next morning, Frederick stood in front of the looking glass in his room, yawning as he tried to fix the top button on his uniform. He'd gotten very little sleep the night before, and the thoughts which had kept him awake for the better part of the night showed no signs of abating with the morning light. The events of the previous evening had brought on unbidden desires that he thought he had long since buried.

It seemed, however, that the past was not ready to let go of him yet.

When he finished fixing his uniform, Frederick sighed. He would be expected down at breakfast soon, but how could he join the others now? How could he sit across the breakfast table from _her_ and seem indifferent? After what Benwick had unwittingly told him last night, Frederick doubted he'd be able to carry on any sort of conversation in her presence.

To his own frustration, Frederick had spent the better part of the night trying to decide what to do with the intelligence he had gained from Benwick last night, but he found he was no closer to an answer than he had been last night. He desperately wanted to talk to Anne alone, but he could not do that until he was sure of her feelings. He was wary of relying on her comments to Benwick. Besides, how could he get her alone in the first place? Ever since they had met again in Uppercross they had both done everything in their power to avoid being alone together. Frederick could not see how he would manage to change that now.

A knock on the door interrupted Frederick's thoughts. He sighed once more and called, "who is it?"

"John, sir," came a young voice. It was the innkeeper's boy. Frederick reluctantly went to open the door. The young boy looked up at him and said, "the Miss Musgroves sent me to inquire whether you are well, sir." He paused, but when Frederick gave no reply beyond a mere frown, the boy continued, "you are late for breakfast, sir, and they are worried."

"Ah," Frederick exhaled. He had been musing for longer than he had realized. "Please tell them that I shall be down momentarily." The boy nodded and ran off. Frederick rubbed his temples in frustration. It seemed he could not escape this breakfast forever. He grudgingly made his way to the stairs.

As Frederick made his way down the stairs, he heard the sound of the inn door opening followed by a sudden commotion. He heard Henrietta's voice exclaim, "Captain Harville! Captain Benwick! How good of you to call on us so early!"

Frederick froze on the bottom step and avoided rounding the corner into the main room. As much as he loved his friends, he currently lamented their presence. The last thing he needed this morning was a continuation of their interrogatories from last night. However, he fostered some small hope that perhaps they would have enough sense not to bring it up in front of the ladies, and perhaps chatting with them would provide him a distraction from focusing on Anne. Stifling one last sigh, Frederick turned the corner.

As everyone's attention was currently on the newcomers, it was Harville who spotted him first. "Ah, Wentworth," he called, "good morning! I do hope we find you in better spirits than we left you last evening?"

Before Frederick could reply, Louisa had turned to him in concern. "Oh, Captain Wentworth!" she exclaimed, "you were not well last night? Is that why you are so late in joining us for breakfast?"

Frederick did his best to smile at her concern, although whether it was genuine or feigned, he could not say for sure. "No, no, I'm quite alright Louisa, thank you," he replied before shooting Harville a warning look. Harville took the warning graciously and dropped the subject. He sat down across from Charles and Mary, and pulling Benwick with him, engaged Charles in a discussion of his newest hunting rifle.

Frederick looked around and found that no one was sitting across from Anne. She was feigning interest in Mary and Henrietta's conversation about Charles Hayter, but Frederick knew her well enough to know that she was not really interested. Her mind appeared to be elsewhere.

After hesitating for a second, Frederick impulsively took the open seat across the table from her. She looked up at him in surprise, but when he met her eyes, she looked away quickly. He frowned. Why was it so hard for them to even make conversation? There had been a time where no silence had gone unfilled between them, where neither was ever at a loss for words. Now it seemed the opposite was true, and Frederick found himself searching in vain for something to say to her.

He wanted more than anything to tell her what he had heard last night. He wanted to ask her whether it was true that she never moved on. He wanted to tell her that he had not moved on either, but this was neither the time nor the place. And, even if it were, Frederick was not sure he should admit that Benwick had broke her confidence. He was not entirely sure how she would react to knowing her private conversation had been relayed to him.

Frederick realized he had not said a word since he sat down, and Anne's eyes were on him now. Looking up to her, he saw that she was regarding him warily, as if she was not sure what to make of his silence. He coughed a bit to cover the awkward silence, then asked, "I hope this morning finds you well, Miss Elliot?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at Anne's face and she nodded. "Very well Captain, thank you." After a pause, she asked, "I trust you were not very indisposed last night?" Frederick did not reply, but he could feel the color rising to his face. The silence was uncomfortable once more, so Anne added, "Louisa was perturbed when you did not return before we all retired, and Captain Harville seemed worried for you as well…" She trailed off, confused by his lack of response.

Slowly realizing he was staring at her, Frederick blinked rapidly. "Oh," he said hastily, "no, I was fine. I am fine," he stuttered. "Thank you for your concern, Miss Elliot," he added stiffly. Anne nodded once in acknowledgment, but the look on her face told Frederick that she did not believe him. He was not surprised. She knew him well, and his demeanor this morning was not what it had been of late. He knew she would be able to tell something was bothering him.

Lowering his voice and looking down at the table, he added privately, "it is only that I… heard something, last night, which I was not expecting." When Frederick looked back up and met her eyes, he was unable to keep a slight smile off his face. "I suppose I let it affect me more than I should have."

Anne simply stared at him, wide-eyed and surprised. She had only asked if he was well out of courtesy and had never expected him to confide in her. They had hardly even spoken since his return. Anne was more than surprised to find herself his confidante, and quite distracted by the fact that his eyes had not left hers. When she was able to find her voice, Anne whispered, "And what was it you heard that affected you so, Captain?"

Afraid to break the fragile connection that was building between them, Frederick kept his eyes locked on hers. She was waiting for his reply, but he was unable to form a coherent one, so for a long moment all they did was stare at each other.

Frederick wanted to tell her everything right then and there. He wanted to tell her what Benwick had said and how it had kept him awake all night. He wanted to tell her that he had never forgotten her, _could _never forget her. He wanted to tell her how foolish he had been and how badly he wanted to turn back the clock to six years ago, when he had some money and could have come back to her, but had refused. He wanted to lay his heart out onto the breakfast table for her to do with as she wished.

But he could not.

Not here. Not now.

So he just kept staring.

She stared back, some comprehension slowly dawning on her. Frederick could see the change in her eyes as she realized what he was insinuating. When she grasped that it must have been something about _her _that he had heard, her mouth dropped open. She desperately wished he would tell her what was on his mind, but still he said nothing, and did nothing, except watch her as she watched him.

The spell that had entranced the two of them was suddenly broken when Mary leaned over and asked Anne to pass her something. Anne did not immediately reply, so Mary repeated her request. Anne blinked and turned to look at her sister. "I'm sorry?" she asked, confused.

Mary sighed dramatically. "I said, pass the butter please," she repeated in slight annoyance. When she got a glimpse of the flushed look on Anne's face, however, she cried, "Really Anne, what has come over you? You look as if you had seen a ghost."

Anne colored and dropped her eyes to the table. She demurely handed Mary the requested dish without offering an explanation for her behavior. Mary squinted at her, but when Anne refused to meet her eyes or say anything, Mary quickly lost interest and turned back to Henrietta.

Anne glanced back up to find Frederick still watching her, but she averted her gaze as quickly as she could. She quickly finished her food and excused herself, muttering something about needing to finish writing a letter in her room.

Frederick watched her as she hastily retreated up the stairs. He suppressed the urge to follow her with more than just his eyes. When she was out of sight, his gaze lingered on the door frame through which she had disappeared.

Unbeknownst to Frederick, Benwick had looked over at he and Anne some time ago and had observed most of what had passed between them. Benwick watched as his friend stared toward the stairs and slowly put together the pieces of last night's conversation in his mind. He started to wonder if there was something his friend was hiding, and resolved to get to the bottom of it himself.

For his part, Frederick was thoroughly frustrated with himself. He instantly regretted not having said something to Anne when he had the chance. He feared that her swift retreat signaled a desire to avoid him, but he tried not to read too much into it. He scrubbed at his eyes in frustration and tried to turn his mind to other things.

He was not very successful, however, for once Anne was on his mind, he never succeeded in making himself think of anything else.

* * *

_A/N: to clarify based on comments, I intentionally had Captain Wentworth address Louisa by only her first name in this chapter to insinuate that he's too distracted by his feelings and situation to remember propriety. Hope that helps clarify that choice. Thanks so much to everyone who has left reviews! _


	4. Chapter 4

Not wanting to waste what might be his only chance of getting his friend alone, and not very sorry to quit the company of Charles Musgrove, whose conversation he found somewhat lacking in interest, Benwick took the first opportunity of occupying the seat which Anne had just abandoned across from Frederick. Glancing around the room to ensure that no eyes were on them for the moment, Benwick quietly asked, "Fancy a walk, Wentworth?"

Frederick, whose mind was still absorbed elsewhere, took a moment before responding. In truth, he did not very well fancy a walk with Benwick at the moment, as he was hesitant to leave the inn. He very much wanted to be present in the breakfast room if and when Anne came back downstairs. However, when Frederick registered the conspiratorial look on Benwick's face, he realized his friend would brook no argument to his suggestion. Reluctantly, Frederick nodded, and he and Benwick slipped out the door before anyone else noticed.

Once outside, the two walked in silence for a bit, each trying to compose his own thoughts. Eventually however, Frederick, who had not wanted to go for a walk in the first place, could remain no longer in ignorance of his friend's design in suggesting it. Seeking rather unsuccessfully to sound indifferent and unbothered, he asked, "Did you have a purpose in engaging me to sneak out of the breakfast room with you like a guilty conspirator, Benwick?"

Benwick grinned at his friend's sarcasm. "I thought I might give you an opportunity to unburden yourself, Wentworth," he suggested lightly. When Frederick did not respond, he added, "your conversation seemed quite heavy this morning, and you appear to have chased your companion from the table."

To his own chagrin, Frederick's face colored. "She had a letter to finish," he muttered.

"Ahh," Benwick responded, unconvinced. "But that does not explain your exceeding interest in my conversation with her last night," he prodded.

Benwick's evasion was beginning to exasperate his companion. Frederick stopped walking and sighed. He turned to his friend and asked, "what is it you want to know, Benwick?"

Benwick smiled sympathetically. "Look, Wentworth," he said gently, "I am not your enemy here. I am trying to help you."

The lack of an answer to his question only frustrated Frederick even more. "I do not need your help," he replied gruffly, turning away to continue their walk.

Benwick sighed and stopped Frederick with a hand on his arm. When his friend turned back to him, Benwick said, "you want to know what I want to know? Alright, I shall tell you. I want to know why our talk of Miss Anne's heartbreak put you into such an ill humor last night. I want to know why you spent the entirety of breakfast staring at her like a lovesick schoolboy, when hitherto you have hardly said three words to her. In short, I believe you know more about that lady's past than you have let on, and I want to know what you are keeping from us."

Frederick, surprised by Benwick's speech, was momentarily at a loss for words. He was simultaneously annoyed by his friend's forwardness in asking such things and surprised by how much he had noticed. Finally, his face turning color and his voice gruff, Frederick responded, "and what is all this to you anyway?"

Benwick smiled sadly and looked toward the ground. He sighed once more before saying quietly, "I know what heartbreak feels like, Wentworth. I know what it feels like to lose your chance at happiness. And if I may be so forward, I think you know this feeling too." He paused and looked back up at Frederick, whose brows were furrowed in confusion. "So does Miss Anne," he added.

There was a heavy pause before Benwick sighed and continued, "I may have lost my love forever, but you two still have a chance. It grieves me to see you both in such a misery which could easily be avoided." Frederick still said nothing, so Benwick added, "And if I am right in my conclusions, I was hoping only to make you see what I have seen."

Frederick did nothing but stare at his friend. At a loss for words, he did not respond. He knew he had not concealed his emotions well last night, but were they so very obvious? Perhaps, he hoped, Benwick was more in tune than most to the heartbreak of others, having suffered a similar emotion himself. Perhaps only Benwick had noticed and the rest were still oblivious. This thought, however, brought him little comfort, as the idea of his feelings having been so easily discerned by another disconcerted him greatly.

When it became obvious that Frederick was not going to respond, Benwick prodded him. "Wentworth," he said intently, waiting until he had his friend's full attention before asking, "it was you whom she lost, wasn't it?"

Frederick nodded slowly. "Yes," he breathed, "it was."

Benwick nodded as well. "I thought as much." After a pause, he asked, "and do you still love her?"

* * *

Back in her room at the inn, Anne was in agony. She instantly regretted fleeing the room as she had, for she feared Frederick – _Captain Wentworth_, she mentally corrected herself – would think she wished to avoid him. The truth was that she had been so overcome by his intensity and insinuations that she had been unable to do anything but remove herself immediately. She needed to be alone, to think, so she had run. But now that she was alone, she realized how her actions must have looked, and blushed at the consequences of her rashness.

Anne paced the room in consternation. What had he been trying to say to her? He had barely so much as looked at her since that fateful morning at Uppercross, let alone looked at her like _that_. The looks he had given her over the breakfast table painfully reminded Anne of the way he had looked at her all those years ago, as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered to him. She had thought she would never see such looks in his eyes again, so to have encountered such an intensity this morning had been more than she could bear, so she had fled.

Anne cursed her own weakness. If only she had stayed, he might have told her what was on his mind. How desperately and ardently she wanted to know.

She momentarily considered returning to the breakfast room and reclaiming her place across the table from him, but she checked the impulse. That would appear foolish, and foolish was the last thing she wanted to appear right now. _Leave the foolishness to the Musgrove girls_, she thought uncharitably before checking such thoughts. She could not afford to let herself fall into the trap of jealousy. If Fre– _the Captain_ fell in love with one of them, she had no one to blame but herself.

Desperately trying to discern some answer for their surprisingly intimate conversation, Anne replayed every word of it in her mind. However, she could not get past one thing that he had said: _I heard something, last night, which I was not expecting_. He had given her no answer when she had ventured to ask what it was that he had heard, but the intensity and emotion in his gaze thereafter had led Anne to the conclusion that it must have been about her. Why else would he have brought it up with her in the first place, when recently he had done all he could to avoid her?

But what could he possibly have heard?

Anne racked her brain for an answer. He had seemed perfectly composed all evening and had left to accompany Harville and Benwick home in good spirits. The Musgrove girls, who had spent the majority of the evening in his company, had not supposed anything to have been amiss with him. It was only Harville who had revealed that Frederick had been in ill humor last night. Anne therefore concluded that whatever he had heard must have been told to him on their walk home.

So, Anne mused as she paced her small room, what might he have been told by Harville or Benwick?

A sudden realization hit Anne and she stopped in her tracks.

_Benwick_.

Benwick must have told Frederick what she had admitted to him last night. Anne's face grew hot as she silently cursed herself for having been so foolish as to reveal her feelings to anyone. She could not fault Benwick for relating her words to his friends, for she had not asked him to keep it in confidence, and Benwick was unaware of Frederick's role in her past. However, the thought of Frederick's knowing that she still suffered from losing him while he appeared perfectly indifferent to her absolutely mortified Anne. She fell back on her bed with her hands on her face in shame.

So he knew. And by all accounts, the revelation of her continued love for him had put him in ill humor. Harville said Frederick had been out of spirits during their walk last night, and then this morning he had addressed her with no more than civility. What was it that he had said about what he had heard?

_I suppose I let it affect me more than I should have_.

So he knew, and he did not want it to affect him. Anne concluded that his looks and addresses this morning must have been out of pity, for she could not believe he still cared for her. She would not be so foolish as to hope for that.

Anne took stock of the situation. He must now know that she had never forgotten him and had never recovered from the heartbreak of losing him. This knowledge had put him in ill humor, so Anne could not but conclude that he did not feel the same. Embarrassment and shame washed over her, and Anne fervently wished that she could simply disappear.

However, to Anne's ultimate dismay, she heard Mary's voice calling her from downstairs. "Anne! We are all to go for a walk, Anne. Won't you accompany us?"

Anne considered pleading illness or some other indisposition, but she knew that if she were to do so, Frederick would know she was avoiding him. She was already embarrassed enough, but to prove herself unable to even be in his company would only make her look worse. Reluctantly, she called her assent to Mary.

Gathering strength which she did not feel, Anne rallied herself and climbed off her bed. She heaved a heavy sigh before opening her door and heading down the hallway to the stairs. She dreaded entering the breakfast room more than anything, but she resolved not to give in. She had managed to avoid Frederick and hide her embarrassment in his company ever since Uppercross, and she must do so again.

With a deep breath, Anne struggled to compose her features and made her way down the stairs. However, when she at last mustered the courage to turn the corner into the breakfast room, she saw that he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Standing outside under the chilly morning sun, Frederick felt as if he were being interrogated by his friend. The question hung in the air between them, suspended for a moment like a ship atop a wave that was about to break: did he still love her?

Frederick did not immediately respond to the question. A few days ago, he would have heartily denied it. He would have said that the years had changed everything and that his affection was no longer hers. He would have asserted that he was totally indifferent to her.

In short, he would have lied to Benwick, for what else could he have said? He could have made no response other than a denial, for up until last night, he had been lying to himself.

But everything had changed last night. Hearing Benwick say that Anne had never moved on and knowing that she possibly still cared for him had awakened feelings that Frederick had not even known he still harbored.

As he lay in bed the previous night, Frederick had replayed every conversation he had ever had with Anne in his mind. He had not been able to resist thinking back to the time they had first met, and to the time they had fallen rapidly and deeply in love. When he looked back on those happy days, he could still feel the love he had held for her as keenly as he had all those years ago, for all that he had long since buried it under pain, heartbreak, anguish, and resent.

In this late-night reverie, Frederick had been equally powerless to resist mentally revisiting the most painful memory of his life. He had thought that Anne's giving him up had ended any love he may have had for her. He had thought that he could no longer love the girl who had not loved him enough to fight for him, and that when he had walked away from her on that fateful day, never daring to look back for fear of losing his façade of resolve, he had also walked away from any claim she ever had on his heart.

But he had been wrong.

Looking back on that day, Frederick could now view that moment from a new perspective. Assessing the intervening years with the knowledge that Anne had been just as miserable as he had been could not but lead Frederick to realize that he was truly far from indifferent. He must now admit to himself that he had never stopped loving Anne; he had simply buried that love in the pain of rejection and heartbreak. And now, knowing that she too hid her love behind sorrow and regret, Frederick had no choice but to come to his conclusion.

"I do, Benwick," he said, his voice a quiet mixture of both happiness and despair. "I do still love her."

Benwick smiled at his friend's realization. "Then what are you waiting for, man?" He asked. Looking intently into his friend's eyes, he warned, "do not make the same mistake I made, Wentworth." His voice took on a more sorrowful tone when he added, "if you love her, do not wait another second."

To Benwick's dismay, his friend still looked uncertain. "But how can I do that?" Frederick huffed in frustration. "I have been nothing but cold and resentful towards her ever since we met at Uppercross. If I were to tell her my feelings now, I daresay she would not believe me to be sincere, and would have good reason to doubt my sanity."

"Well," Benwick mused, "you were very attentive to her this morning. Perhaps you might be more so in the future, until such a time as you think you have put yourself once again in her good graces."

Frederick sighed, but he could not resist a small, ironic smile. "I thought you told me not to wait another second before declaring my feelings for her," he teased.

Benwick smiled in return. "That I did, true," he admitted, "but–"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by voices from across the field. The two of them turned and saw the entire party from the inn out for a walk and rapidly approaching them. Seeing the group, Benwick smiled at Frederick and said, "well, Wentworth, you may perhaps be obliged to postpone your pursuit for the moment. You would be well advised to first disabuse one Miss Louisa of the notion that you could having feelings for her."

Frederick groaned. He silently cursed himself for not being more careful in showing attentions to Louisa. Upon reflection he had realized that his attentions to her were nothing more than a convenient distraction from the depths of his true feelings, and he regretted having given the young lady an idea of his caring more for her than he truly did, or ever could. He resolved to be no more than simply courteous to her in the future, and to ignore her whenever it was possible to do so without being rude. However, their party was rapidly approaching, so Frederick stifled his groans and attempted to adopt a pleasant expression with which to entertain the group.

As the party approached, Harville called out to them, "Benwick! Wentworth! There you are. We were wondering where the two of you had run off to."

Frederick, ignoring Harville's overture, searched the faces of the party when they caught up. He found Anne standing at the back of the group. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding meeting his own. Her cheeks were red, but he could not tell whether it was the result of emotions or the exercise of walking in the chilly morning air. He watched her, hoping to catch her gaze with his, but she never looked up.

Anne was silently mortified to find that Captain Benwick and Captain Wentworth had been talking privately. Although she attempted to convince herself that she could not possibly be the subject of their discussion, her imagination nonetheless ran with the fear of Benwick telling Frederick everything she had told him the previous night. She once again deeply regretted having breathed a word of her feelings to anyone. She kept her eyes downcast lest Frederick should see the embarrassment in her eyes.

Frederick realized that neither he nor Benwick had answered Harville's call. He sighed. "We were just going for a walk to get some fresh air," he said as pleasantly as he could manage. "Would you all care to join us?"

The ladies happily proclaimed their assent to his offer, and the party set off. Anne hung toward the back of the group and generally avoided conversing with anyone. Frederick likewise rebuffed the others' attempts to draw him into conversation, especially when Louisa tried to talk to him. He knew he must appear to be sulking and somewhat unkind, but he found himself unequal to the task of chatting idly with his companions. His thoughts were too much in turmoil for such an undertaking. He desperately wanted to fall back and talk to Anne, but he had no idea what he would say to her, so he stayed toward the middle of the group and tried to sort out a plan in his mind.

Benwick, seeing Anne walking alone at the back of the group, fell back and joined her. Anne smiled faintly when she noticed his maneuver, though she silently dreaded having to make conversation with him at the moment.

Sensing that Anne was uncomfortable, Benwick simply asked, "how do you do this morning, Miss Anne?"

Anne attempted to smile once again and answered, "well, thank you, Captain Benwick. And yourself?"

Benwick smiled sadly, and, seeking a verse which would both convey his own inner turmoil and speak to his companion's, he quoted, "'The dew of the morning sunk chill on my brow—It felt like the warning of what I feel now.'"

Surprised at his choice of quote, for it was a poem she knew well, Anne quietly said, "Byron."

Benwick nodded. "You are familiar with that particular verse, then?" he asked.

Anne's voice was barely a whisper when she replied, "I am."

Anne was aware of Benwick's eyes on her, and she fell silent, wondering how much he knew. She could not help but run through the lines of that particular poem in her mind: _When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years_… That Benwick should choose that poem could not be a coincidence. Anne felt heat rising to her face as she wondered what Frederick must have told Benwick, or what he must have determined on his own.

They walked on in silence for a while. Benwick was sure that Anne was intelligent enough to know that his choice of poem was an attempt to tell her that he knew her story, and he was reluctant to push her any further. It was clear by the color of her face that he had made her uncomfortable. He regretted causing her pain, but he thought such consequences worth it if he might secure for his friends the happiness which had been lost to him.

At last the party had managed to circle back, and the group found themselves approaching the inn once more. Harville and Benwick were to leave them there and return to Harville's house for the afternoon before once more rejoining their party that evening.

As the group made their goodbyes, Benwick saw his chance. He quickly pulled Anne aside and whispered, "perhaps, Miss Anne, you need not suffer the same fate as the subject of Lord Byron's verse." Anne was too surprised to respond immediately, and before she could come up with any coherent response, he was off, and Anne was left in bewilderment to ponder the possible meaning of his words.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: this chapter is a bit long and probably should be two chapters, but I was reluctant to cut it. So… yeah. Here ya go. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, and a huuuuuuge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! Each one truly means so much to me :)_

* * *

In confusion and at a loss for what else to do, Anne turned back toward the inn's door. As she looked up, she caught Frederick's eyes on her. Color rose to her cheeks as she desperately hoped he had not heard Benwick's words. Instinct told her to avert her gaze, but she found herself unable to tear her eyes from his. For a long moment they stood there, their gazes unbroken until at last Mary pulled Anne into the inn.

When everyone was finally settled in the inn's great room, Anne placed herself near the window. She stood there, staring out the window, trying to compose her thoughts and make sense of everything that had happened so far that day.

She was at a loss for what all of it could mean, but it seemed clear to her that Benwick knew everything. She tried to make sense of the looks Frederick had given her at breakfast that morning in the context of her conversation with Benwick, and particularly his parting words to her. However, the more she thought about it, the more confused she became.

There was a lull in the general buzz of conversation behind her and Anne became aware of footsteps approaching her. She turned to find Frederick standing directly behind her. Surprise stole any words she might have formed, leading to a momentary silence between them.

Finally, Frederick asked, "did you enjoy the walk, Miss Elliot?"

Anne tried to keep her voice from stumbling. "It is a beautiful day," she replied, somewhat avoiding the point of his question.

"It is," he agreed, somewhat awkwardly. He sought for something more to say and finally asked her, "what did you and Captain Benwick discuss?" Anne's cheeks colored and she looked away. Seeking to fill the uncomfortable silence, Frederick added, "it appeared to be a rather grave conversation."

Whether he had meant to admit it or not, the revelation that he had been watching them while they spoke unsettled Anne. She wondered, not for the first time, if the two of them were not in leagues together. For what purpose, however, she could not possibly imagine. At last, with a nervous smile, she quietly answered, "we were discussing poetry."

"Ahh," Frederick nodded, "a favorite topic of Benwick's."

Anne laughed nervously. "Indeed," she said.

She silently prayed that he would not ask her which poem they had been discussing.

There was a momentary silence before Frederick, not wanting the conversation to end, asked, "have you found Lyme to your liking?"

Anne smiled wistfully. "I have, yes," she replied, her voice a bit steadier now that the conversation appeared to be on safer grounds. "The views are beautiful and I find the sea air quite refreshing."

Frederick returned her smile and Anne reluctantly found herself remembering dreams which she had cherished at one point in the past. Dreams which she had deliberately not thought about in years. There had been a time when she had imagined that she and Frederick would marry and move to a town on the seashore where they could raise their children and teach them to love the sea as much as their father did. Anne tried not to let the pain and regret show on her face when she remembered how innocently she had created this dream in her mind, and how foolishly she had given up any chance of ever making it a reality.

Frederick, troubled by her refusal to meet his eyes, asked, "so you like the coast, then?"

"Yes," Anne whispered, endeavoring to keep her voice as steady as it had been just a moment before, "I do."

"As do I," Frederick said quietly.

Anne finally looked up at him and found him smiling sadly. The look in his eyes caught her for a moment and she found herself unable to look away. For reasons Anne could not have articulated, something in his look gave her comfort and courage. "I… I should like to live near the sea, I think," she ventured.

Frederick was relieved that they seemed finally to be getting somewhere in the conversation. "Harville seems to find coastal life quite enjoyable," he laughed quietly. "He may just convince me that Lyme would be a wonderful place to settle."

Anne smiled. "Had you not wanted to live near the sea, Captain?" she asked.

Frederick's smile faded somewhat. "I do not know that I had given it much thought, Miss Elliot," he answered honestly. "At least," he added, looking deeply into her eyes, "not in a very long time."

Anne could do nothing but stared at him. His eyes revealed a mixture of emotions which he could likely hide from most people, but could never hide from her. She saw things in him which anyone else would miss. She could discern the feelings playing out in his eyes as easily as she had all those years ago, but she was startled to find them still present. Could it be that he had shared her dreams years ago, only to find that they still haunted him as much as they haunted her? The pain in his eyes seemed to say so, but Anne was too afraid to hope that he might still want that life.

Frederick finally broke their gaze and looked across the room. Anne realized that Harville was calling for him to come and look at some article of interest in the newspaper. Frederick turned back to Anne, and with a sad smile he said, "excuse me."

Anne nodded once, and Frederick reluctantly made his way across the room. Anne unconsciously followed him with her eyes. When he reached Harville's side, he looked back at Anne and cast her one last, longing glance before turning to his friend.

Anne turned back to the window. She knew not whether to be hopeful or remorseful, embarrassed or pleased. It felt as if she had experienced every emotion possible within the last few hours and she had no idea what to think or feel.

With a sigh, Anne watched as the gulls flew out over the open water and wondered what it must be like to have a life as free as theirs.

* * *

Later that night, after dinner, the group once again found themselves gathered in the great room. Harville and Benwick had joined them for the evening once again. Although the company was the same as the previous evening, tonight everyone seemed to find the conversation somewhat lacking.

At long last, seeking something to do, Louisa suggested they have a dance. This proposal was met with great enthusiasm by her sister and Mary, so it was agreed to by all. The inn's staff cleared the room of furniture to make room for a dance floor and the revelry began.

It was, of course, assumed without the need for asking that Anne would play the piano to provide them with music. Anne accepted her lot graciously and took her place at the piano. She played a few songs from memory before flipping through the music book on the stand to choose a few more.

Anne endeavored to engross herself in the music so completely as to leave no room for her attention to be drawn to the dancers, but she found herself unable to do so. She could not help but watch as Frederick danced with every girl but her. She was gratified to notice that he split his attentions equally and did not dance more than one consecutive song with Louisa, but even this could not entirely quiet the feelings brought on by watching him.

Frederick, for his part, had to endeavor to keep his attention focused on his various partners. He had intentionally danced with each one so as to pay no particular attention to Louisa, but it seemed that no matter whose face was in front of him during the dance, his attention was constantly pulled toward the face hidden in shadows behind the piano.

He desperately wanted to ask Anne why she had given up dancing, if indeed Louisa was correct in telling him she had. He tried to forbid himself from wondering, but the question rose unbidden and unwelcome into his mind: _was it for me? _Had it been eight years since she had danced with anyone? Frederick could think of no other reason for why she would give up dancing, for the girl he had known all those years ago had loved to dance and had indeed been very accomplished at it. He could not help but wonder if their separation had ended her love of dancing.

But then, his mind always followed that thought with the reminder that _she _had been the cause of their separation. It had, after all, been _her_ decision. Could she really have been so heartbroken by her own decision that she refused to allow herself the pleasure of a dance?

Frederick's mind was lost in these questions which he knew he could never answer. He dutifully turned his attention back to his partners for the next few songs, attempting to match their smiles, laugh at their jokes, and banish Anne's face from his mind. However, he was not entirely successful. So, desperate for an answer of some sort, Frederick hatched a plan to attempt to address some of the questions that were burning holes in both his mind and his heart.

Sitting alone behind the piano, Anne tried to smother her own feelings, but they found their way to the surface nonetheless. She watched as Frederick laughed with his partners. He seemed so happy and carefree that it made Anne's heart ache.

When she came to the end of her song, Anne desperately flipped through the book for a more complicated tune to play. Perhaps a challenging melody would more successfully divert her attentions. She looked in vain for a song that might present more of a challenge, but she had not found one before a shadow fell across the page.

She looked up and found Frederick standing next to where she sat on the bench, his face slightly red and a smile playing on his lips. Anne quickly looked back at the music book lest he see the ill-concealed anguish and jealousy in her eyes. She wished he would leave before she had a chance to embarrass herself, but he did not move away. Instead, out of the corner of her eye, Anne saw that he held his hand out to her. Surprised by this, her head jerked up until their eyes met. Still holding his hand out, Anne saw that his smile had not faded, but had become more thoughtful and, she thought, more sincere.

Anne was too surprised by his overture to respond immediately. As she sat there in momentary confusion, Louisa approached the piano, still laughing from enjoyment. "Come now Captain Wentworth," she said with an apparently innocent laugh, "we told you before, Anne has given up dancing."

Frederick's eyes did not leave Anne's as he replied, "Well, surely Miss Elliot ought not play all night." He paused before adding more quietly to Anne, "Perhaps, she might consider dancing once again? It would be a great honor to us, as I am sure she is an accomplished dancer." Anne, overcome as she was with emotion at his offer and distracted by the way he was looking at her, still could find no words to respond. Frederick added, even more quietly, "please. I insist."

Anne finally regained some control of herself. She smiled gratefully and hesitantly slid her hand in his. Frederick grinned as she stood up with him and she blushed in response. For a second, standing there with her hand in his, a smile on both their faces, Frederick could almost pretend it was eight years ago and they had never been separated.

Frederick's joy in simply standing there with Anne was interrupted, however, when Louisa exclaimed, "but if Anne is to dance, then who should provide us with music?"

Mary, never to be discounted, eagerly offered her own services. "I will play," she said, "I am quite as accomplished as Anne." Though everyone knew that this was not quite the case, they nonetheless gratefully consented to let her play.

Frederick held Anne's hand gently in his own and led her onto the floor. When the music started up, he was grateful to find that Mary had picked a rather slow, intimate song. He smiled warmly at Anne before pulling her closer to start the dance. Anne's pulse quickened and she soon lost awareness of everything and everyone but him. They had not been this close in over eight years, and somehow his closeness affected Anne even more now than it had back then.

Going into the dance, they were both nervous, for it had been so long since they had danced together. However, they quickly found their rhythm, and Anne was surprised at how natural it felt to dance with him again. It was easy, and wonderful, and _right_. It was right in a way that nothing had ever been right in the last eight years, and Anne was simultaneously pleased and saddened. As they danced, she was happier than she had been in a very long time, but she was also saddened by the knowledge that once the dance was over, he would no longer be hers, and she would have to let him go once again.

These thoughts plagued her until she met Frederick's eyes with her own. She found him smiling back at her. There was a devotion in his eyes which she had not seen in a very long time. It was a look which she had never expected to see from him again, and it quite took Anne's breath away.

Frederick found himself unable to take his eyes off Anne's for the entirety of the dance. Her gaze entranced him, and he found himself wondering how for so long he managed let his hubris keep him from realizing how much he still loved her.

Unfortunately for them both, the song was over all too soon. The music had ended but the pair still stood there, their hands still clasped, each lost in the other's eyes. Neither was aware of anyone else in the room until Harville's voice interrupted their private reverie. "Well," he said loudly, causing both Anne and Frederick to start. Anne guiltily removed her hands from his as Harville continued, "you are a lovely dancer, Miss Anne. It is a pity you had not graced us with your presence on the dance floor before now." Anne, her face flushed and her mind in confusion, could only bow her thanks. Harville turned to his friend and asked, "Do not you think Miss Anne is a lovely dancer, Wentworth?"

Frederick smiled warmly at Anne, and his voice filled with emotions that were lost on everyone but her, he quietly replied, "Yes, she is."

Anne returned his smile before reclaiming her place at the piano. As she played the next song, her mind was filled with thoughts of Frederick's smile. She could not help but remember the feeling of his hand on her waist as they danced. She did not know what to make of all of it, nor even what she ought to feel, but one thing was certain: her sadness and anguish had, if only for the moment, been replaced by much happier emotions.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning at breakfast, Anne sat across the table from Mary, pretending to listen and feigning interest while her sister chatted with Louisa. Their conversation was mostly one-sided as Louisa declared her admiration of the Navy and her love for Lyme, going on and on about the worth of the sailors and the wonder of the sea. Eventually, however, Mary tired of listening to this, and their talk moved to a discussion of the previous day's events. Anne started paying more attention when they began talking about the previous night's dance.

"Oh, it was such a wonderful idea Louisa," Mary exclaimed.

Louisa was quite pleased with herself. "I do so enjoy dancing," she replied, "and we can never have enough opportunities to dance."

Mary nodded her agreement. "I never tire of dancing," she asserted.

"Neither do I," Louisa said. "It was such a pity that Captain Harville and Captain Benwick had to return home, else we could have gone on all night." She paused before adding laughingly, "I do not think that poor Captain Wentworth could have held down the dance floor by himself!"

Frederick, who had just been coming down the stairs to join them for breakfast, paused on the step when he heard his name. He started to move to join them when he heard Mary say, "perhaps not, but Captain Wentworth _is_ an excellent dancer. Don't you think so, Anne?"

Frederick, becoming aware that he was eavesdropping, was nonetheless unable to move from his position as he waited in suspense for Anne's response.

Anne had yet to say anything since their conversation had moved to the dance, and she looked up at her sister in surprise at being so addressed. There was a pause while she stared at her sister, stunned by the question, and searched for an appropriate response.

While Anne gaped at her, Mary impatiently added, "well, do you not think he's an excellent dancer? You did dance with him after all."

Louisa grinned. "That's right, you did, didn't you?" With a conspiratorial glance at Mary, she laughed, "and here we all thought you had given up dancing!"

"Ah, yes," Mary responded with a grin. "You had given up dancing, quite awhile ago if I remember correctly." When Anne said nothing in response, Mary continued, "what made you change your mind?"

Still out of sight on the stair, Frederick silently pleaded with Anne to answer. Half of his heart was terrified of her response, but he also desperately needed to know.

Anne stared at her sister with wide eyes. She had no idea what to say. How could she explain her sudden change of heart to Mary and Louisa? She hardly even understood herself. She shrugged and half-whispered, "I do not know."

Louisa sighed. "I think it is just being here, in Lyme," she said wistfully. "It is such a wonderful place, and with such good company. The sea air would give many a woman a change of heart."

Observing the color rising in Anne's cheeks, Mary grinned. "Or maybe," she said, pretending to whisper to Louisa but still talking loudly enough to be heard, "it was not the place that caused Anne's change of heart, but rather the person asking her."

"Captain Wentworth?" Louisa laughed, "I don't think so," she declared before asking Anne, "You wouldn't have any designs on the Captain, would you Anne?"

With all eyes on her, Anne had no choice but to answer. She gave them a halfhearted smile and whispered, "no," before dropping her gaze to the table.

"Well then," Mary said, apparently accepting her sister's answer at face value, "what could have occasioned her to change her mind then, do you think?"

"Oh, I don't know," Louisa sighed, becoming bored with the subject. "Maybe she just wanted to dance, Mary," she shrugged.

Mary was not satisfied with that. She did not like to be out of the know and she wanted an answer. She turned her attention back to her sister and asked, "why did you give up dancing in the first place Anne?" Anne, equally unable to answer this question, simply avoided her sister's gaze. She was, however, spared the need to answer when Mary continued, "it was quite a long time ago, I remember. We had a ball at Kellynch at one Christmas when I was home from school. I remember Charles asking you to dance. You refused him. I asked Elizabeth why you weren't dancing, and she said you had given it up."

Mary looked contemplative while she tried to remember that long-ago conversation, and Anne silently prayed that her older sister had not betrayed her secret. She did not think that Mary knew about her history with Frederick, for if she had, she certainly would have brought it up when he returned, but Anne could not be entirely sure. Elizabeth had been there at the time, and though they had all agreed not to speak of it to anyone, Anne could not be sure whether Elizabeth had not told Mary. Anne thought that it was unlikely that she would have told anyone outside the family, for Elizabeth had been embarrassed that her sister should receive an offer from someone so far below them, and in fact had been relieved when they agreed not to speak of it. However, it was possible she had told Mary.

Behind the wall, Frederick remained rooted to the spot. He had long since given up worrying about the impropriety of listening to the ladies' conversation. He lamented Anne's situation, barraged as she was by Mary and Louisa, but the questions with which they were tormenting her were ones he himself had longed to have answered, but of course could never ask. This might be his only chance to get answers to the questions which had plagued him since that night at Uppercross, when he had learned that Anne had given up dancing, and he was not about to lose the chance by entering the room and interrupting them.

At last Mary continued. "I seem to remember Elizabeth saying something about your being too sad to dance, but she would not tell me why…" she said suggestively, hoping Anne would take the hint and fill them in. Anne, however, refused to look up from her plate, her face burning.

Frederick stood on the other side of the wall, his heart beating so loudly that he almost feared they would hear it and discover him. He had hardly dared to let himself believe that Anne had given up dancing because of him, but what else could her sister possibly have meant? He wondered how wounded Anne must have been to have given up dancing for so many years. He had been heartbroken too, and had indeed thought himself torn in two after their separation, but even he had managed to find some happiness in dancing in the intervening years.

His heart went out to Anne in a way that he had not thought it possible for it to ever do again. Perhaps he had misunderstood her. He had assumed that she could not have been as broken as he had been, it having been her decision to end it. But over the last few days, he had learned the true depths of Anne's misery, and he could not but share her pain.

"Sad?" Louisa echoed, now interested in the subject once again. "Why should you have been sad?"

Both Mary and Louisa stared at Anne until the silence became uncomfortable. With no other choice but to respond, Anne took a deep breath to steady her voice and looked back up. She nervously glanced toward the stairs, afraid of who might come down them at any second. She did not want this conversation to be overheard. "It was a long time ago," she said quietly, "I'd rather not talk about it."

Mary huffed. It seemed she would not get an answer out of her sister. "I still say it was the partner who got her onto the floor," she maintained.

Louisa rolled her eyes. "When Henrietta comes down, we shall ask her what she thinks, but she is bound to disagree with you, Mary. Anne said herself she has no designs on the Captain," she persisted. "Besides," she added with a shrug, "why would she? He has never paid her any attention since we first met him. I hardly think that should convince her to stand up with him when she has not danced in so very long."

Anne had finally had enough. Seeing no other way out of the conversation, she stood up abruptly. Louisa and Mary looked at her in surprise, but she could do no more than mutter "excuse me," and flee toward the stairs.

Frederick, still hovering over the final stair, heard Anne make her hasty exit. However, as Anne had been seated very near the stairs to begin with, he had no time to make a retreat. Rounding the corner from the breakfast room, Anne nearly ran right into him. She stopped abruptly, surprised by the form into which she had run. It took a moment before she realized _who _it was that she had almost ran into, and Frederick could see the range of emotions that flashed across her eyes when she recognized him.

There were so many things Frederick wished to do and say in that moment, but he found himself unable to do anything. Instead, the two of them simply stared at each other for a moment, each trying to quell the turmoil of their emotions. At last, Frederick managed to find his voice, although it came out as no more than a whisper when he said, "Miss Elliot…" He did not know what else to say, and even that did not feel right, so he whispered, "Anne…"

The sound of her Christian name influenced Anne. She had not heard him call her that in so many years. The sound of her name in his voice threatened to break loose everything she had been holding together all morning. Embarrassed and overcome, she quickly said, "Good morning, Captain," and flew up the stairs to her room.

"Wait," Frederick called, turning and watching as she fled up the stairs. His plea was in vain, however, as Anne was determined to be alone. Frederick sighed. It seemed he was never to get a moment alone with her. He momentarily considered following her, but he instantly saw the folly in that plan. He couldn't very well knock on her door and ask her what was wrong. He reluctantly turned the corner and entered the breakfast room.

"Ah, Captain Wentworth," Louisa called when she spotted him. "You are just the man we were looking for at the moment."

Frederick attempted a good-natured smile. "Am I?" he said with far more enthusiasm than he felt. "And why is that?"

As he sat down across from them, Mary answered, "we are trying to determine what possessed my sister, last night, to break her vow of never dancing again."

"Ah," he responded, suppressing a sigh. He had no desire to have this conversation with them, so he was extremely grateful when he heard the inn's door open and turned to discover that Harville and Benwick had joined them at last. He called them over and immediately turned the conversation to other things, hoping for both his sake and Anne's that Mary and Louisa would drop their interrogation.

* * *

Once again, Anne miserably found herself alone in her room and plagued by the conversation at breakfast. It seemed this was becoming a regular occurrence for her. She sat down on the edge of her bed and dropped her head into her hands.

She was positively overcome with emotions. She was angry with Mary for questioning her so much, but also ashamed that she had not seen it coming. It was only natural that her acquiescence last night should raise suspicion, given that she had not danced in years. There was no reasonable explanation for her change of heart. Perhaps she would have done better to have refused.

Anne cursed her own weakness in agreeing. Louisa had been right. He had shown no interest in her since they had been reacquainted, and one dance would not change that. It had been foolish of her to give into her feelings when she should know they were no longer returned. Frederick could no longer feel for her what she would always feel for him.

_Frederick._

Oh how Anne wished she had not run into him on the stair.

She had no idea how much of the conversation he might have overheard. She hoped he had just been coming down the stairs and had heard none of it, but she could not know for sure. Even if he had only heard the end, he would have heard Louisa say he had paid her no attention, and he would have heard Anne's response of leaving immediately. He knew her well enough to know that her response meant Louisa's words had affected her. Anne dreaded the thought that he had heard even that much, let alone the rest.

Anne's face burned with shame. If only she had refused him last night, she would not now be the subject of such speculation and interrogation. She could have avoided all of this if only she had not been weak last night.

But how could she have refused him? The way he had looked at her when he asked and his subtle compliment about her dancing had all reminded Anne of that time years ago when he had looked at her that way all the time. It had not been in her power to refuse the pull of that look.

Anne fought back tears of frustration and humiliation as she ran through Mary and Louisa's conversation again in her head. Then she thought about Frederick, downstairs at breakfast alone with them. She was struck with a sudden realization: what if they asked him?

Anne was momentarily horrified at the thought of that happening before she talked herself down. Neither Mary nor Louisa knew of their history, so they would have no reason to suppose he knew anything about Anne's motives. Besides, she rather thought Louisa had designs on him, so she would have no reason to question him about his dance with Anne. She endeavored to calm herself and be reasonable. Surely they would have more interesting topics to discuss with him at breakfast.

Anne got up and busied herself with organizing her things and packing her traveling trunk. She attempted to distract her mind with these menial tasks until she heard the door open below. She could make out the voice of Captain Harville and figured they must have joined the party downstairs. Anne knew she would be missed soon, but she had no desire to return. She did not want to risk a continuance of Mary and Louisa's questioning, and she did not think she could face Frederick at all.

Anne wished the party would all forget her and leave her to her own devices, sparing her the necessity of rejoining them. At the entrance of Captains Harville and Benwick, Mary and Louisa had indeed all but forgotten Anne, their interests and conversation being diverted to more interesting subjects.

There was one person in the breakfast room, however, who felt her absence keenly, as he could never forget her.


	8. Chapter 8

As everyone finished their breakfast, Harville and Benwick reported on the fine weather of the morning, and it was proposed that they go for a walk. The ladies were anxious to see more of Lyme, so the idea was readily agreed to. Everyone voiced their pleasure with the plan, except Frederick, who remained silent. He did not respond to the suggestion because he had not been paying attention to the conversation. His mind and heart were elsewhere.

Harville was the first to notice his friend's silence. "Wentworth," he called. Frederick, suddenly aware that he had missed the last few minutes of conversation, looked up at his friend in confusion. "We are going for a walk," Harville said. "Will you join us?"

"Oh," Frederick responded, "thank you Harville, but no, I think I shall stay here this morning." In truth, Frederick relished the opportunity to rid himself of the company for a little while. He liked them all well enough, true, but he needed some time alone to think things over. Besides, he mused, the one person whose company most enjoyed was still upstairs in her room. Aware that all eyes were still on him, Frederick added, "I have some letters I need to catch up on."

Harville shrugged and, accepting this explanation, led the rest of the party outside. When they were gone, Frederick sighed. He finally had a quiet moment alone to absorb everything that had happened that morning. He savored the time for reflection. However, to his dismay, he found his thoughts in such disarray that he had no idea where to begin.

* * *

The longer Anne sat in her room the more foolish she felt. She knew she must look like a blushing schoolgirl, running away every time the object of her interest was mentioned. What is more, it seemed that her every action served to raise the suspicion of her companions, when her utmost desire was to avoid their scrutiny. She dreaded the thought of her past with Frederick becoming general knowledge among their party. It would be bad enough for them all to know, but even worse for it to be brought up in his presence. Anne did not think she could bear it if he should guess her feelings when he no longer returned them.

In vain Anne sought for a resolution to her problems. How could she explain all her irrational actions without explaining her feelings or their origin? How could she face her sister and Louisa again without looking foolish?

Anne was about to give up when she heard a general rumbling downstairs. It seemed that breakfast was concluding. Anne sighed, for if breakfast was over, it would not be long before she was needed for something. She would have to make an appearance again and hope that the presence of the rest of their party would prevent a renewal of Mary and Louisa's inquisition.

Anne listened in suspense, expecting her name to be called at any second. However, to her pleasant surprise, she heard the inn's door open, the voices fade, and then the door slam shut into silence. Anne smiled to herself, for it seemed the party had left the inn, and she had, mercifully, been forgotten. Grateful to find she had the inn to herself and very much desiring an escape from her room, Anne quickly walked down the stairs to the breakfast room.

Upon turning the corner, however, Anne was surprised to find she was not alone.

"Captain Wentworth," she said quickly, the surprise evident in her voice.

Frederick, who had remained sitting at the table but had buried his face in his hands, looked up in bewilderment. He had not expected Anne's entry and was momentarily at a loss. All he said was. "Miss Elliot…"

They both stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise for a moment before Frederick recollected himself. He stood up quickly and stiffly bowed. Anne awkwardly returned the greeting and Frederick motioned to the seat across the table from him, indicating she should join him. Anne's eyes went from his face to the chair and back, unsure of whether to accept his offer. Frederick, seeing the hesitation in her expression, asked, "would you give me the honor of your company?"

As they were alone, Anne knew she would do better to decline, for if the party were to return and find them conversing in private, she worried their suspicion would only increase. However, Anne made the mistake of meeting Frederick's eyes. He looked so conflicted and yet so earnest that Anne was reluctant to refuse. At last, against her better judgment, Anne accepted the seat with a small but grateful smile. After all, she told herself, this is public room, so if they should be seen together here, it could not be all that scandalous.

The pair sat in silence for a few moments as neither was sure what to say. At last, however, Frederick, whose mind had not yet left the conversation he had overheard, could not help but ask, "did you enjoy the dance last night?"

Anne could feel the color rising in her cheeks. To her frustration, she was powerless to stop it. "I did," she said quietly. Looking up, she saw Frederick smile, and she could not keep a small smile from creeping onto her lips too. Meeting his eyes, she said, "thank you, Captain."

Frederick was not sure whether she was thanking him for asking or thanking him for the dance itself, but he was encouraged by her smile. Perhaps hoping she meant the latter, he said, "the honor was all mine, Miss Elliot."

Anne wanted to ask him how much he knew or whether he had overheard their conversation at breakfast, but she knew she could not ask such things. Instead, she sought to see how much he knew by implication. As demurely as possible and hoping to lead him to reveal his thoughts, Anne said, "I do hope I did not embarrass you, Captain, for I am sure my dancing skills could not be equal to those of others, untested as they have been of late."

Frederick shook his head. "Nonsense," he said immediately. Then, looking at her with a soft sigh, he added, "you have always been a wonderful dancer."

Anne was momentarily taken aback by his response. Since they had met at Uppercross, neither had alluded to having been more than slight acquaintances in the past, so his acknowledgement of their past, wrapped as it was in a compliment, both embarrassed and pleased Anne.

Unsure of how to properly acknowledge his sentiment, Anne sought for a change of topic. "You… you did not join the rest of the party this morning?" she asked awkwardly.

Frederick smiled sadly at her evasion. "No," he sighed. "They went for a walk, but I found I did not relish the company this morning."

"Oh," Anne said in surprise. She started to rise from her seat, saying, "I hope I am not intruding-"

"No!" Frederick said quickly and a little more forcefully than he had meant to. "No," he repeated with a smile. "Not at all." Anne blushed and sat back down.

There was a long pause while they each tried to come up with something to say. Anne lamented the lack of ease between them. She missed the days when they had conversed with openness and freedom, for at one time they had so well understood each other that there was no occasion for awkwardness. Now, however, every sentence between them seemed strained.

Frederick likewise regretted their inability to understand each other. Finally, with a sigh, he decided to be more forward. He had to get some answers from her, for he did not think that either of them could last much longer in this frustrating state of incomprehension. "Miss Elliot, may I ask…" he started.

Anne looked up at him in surprise. When she met his eyes, Frederick lost his nerve and said no more until Anne gently whispered, "yes?"

Frederick sighed once more and said, "I heard—well, that is, I was told—that, before last night, you no longer-"

Anne's self-deprecating smile cut him off. Frederick could tell by the look on her face that she knew what he was asking, and he did not want to insult her dignity by putting it into words. Anne avoided his gaze and sighed, "I suppose you have a right to know."

"No," Frederick said quietly, "I have no right to know. Nor do I have a right to ask." He smiled sadly at her and added, "but should you be willing to tell me, I very much wish to know."

Anne sighed sadly, dropping her gaze to the table. There was a sadness in her eyes that tore at Frederick's heart. He found himself wishing he could reach across the table and hold her until the sadness disappeared from her eyes, but of course he could do no such thing. He was not even sure she would want him to if he could. Anne's voice interrupted this reverie when she whispered, "you have not guessed?"

Frederick watched her even though she refused to meet his gaze. "Oh, I have guessed," he said quietly. His words brought a blush of embarrassment to Anne's cheeks, for which he was sorry. He continued, "but I have often feared I am wrong."

Anne's eyes returned to his, her gaze somewhat questioning. "Feared?"

Frederick smiled sadly. "Yes, feared," he echoed. "I had hoped…" he trailed off momentarily, shrugging and looking away in embarrassment himself. "I had hoped that perhaps your refusal to dance, and then your acquiescence to dance with _me_, might mean that you could still feel as I do, but, after all this time… But I did not know. I _do_ not know."

There was a moment of silence, and when Frederick once again dared to meet Anne's eyes, he found them wide with astonishment. Anne was momentarily sure she had heard him wrong, or had at least misunderstood him. It could not possibly be that he had just admitted to still having feelings for her… Could it? Anne was at a loss for how to respond.

Her stunned silence disconcerted Frederick, and he wondered if he had made a mistake in admitting his feelings so freely. He hadn't meant to say so much, but the words were out before he had thought them through. He was committed now, as it was too late to take back what he had said. He whispered, "Anne…" which brought a smile to her face at last, "I have never—"

At that moment the inn's door opened and the rest of their party returned. Neither Anne nor Frederick moved. They remained at the table, their eyes locked on each other's, silently communicating all they had still left unsaid. The others filed in the room, still chatting away, and none but Benwick noticed the lack of reception from the pair seated at the table.

At last Mary noticed her sister. "Oh, Anne," she said loudly, snatching Anne's attention away. Anne turned in her chair to face her sister and Frederick quickly got up from the table, hoping no one had noticed the looks that had just been passing between he and Anne. "We just had the most lovely walk," Mary continued. "Why did you not join us?"

Anne stuttered momentarily as she tried to focus her attention on Mary's question. "I, um… I did not know you were going," she said honestly.

Mary's only response was, "oh, hmm."

Anne willed her heart rate to slow down and silently prayed that the others would not see the color which she was sure still laced her cheeks. She was intensely aware of Frederick's presence as he stood behind her.

From across the room Harville called, "Did you finish your letters, Wentworth?"

"Uhh, no," Frederick responded, "not quite." Anne was gratified to find that he seemed to be as much in confusion as she was. "So, if you will excuse me," he continued, "I will go finish them now."

Without waiting for a response, Frederick strode up to his room. Once there, he was instantly frustrated with how he had left things with Anne. He had hoped to clear the air between them. He had wanted to tell her how he felt and ask her if she could ever feel the same. Instead, he had only managed to blurt out half a confession with no explanation before they were interrupted. Frederick sighed in annoyance. At least the conversation had hardened his resolve. And besides, Harville's question had given him an idea.

Thinking back on everything they had said to one another, Frederick sat down at the small desk in his room. He was nervous and anxious about his plan, but his conversation with Anne had given him some hope. She had not rebuffed him completely. Perhaps he still had a chance. Regardless, Frederick decided, at least now he knew what he had to do.


	9. Chapter 9

Anne was obliged to stay at the table and feign interest while her sister and the Musgrove girls raved about their walk and the beauty of Lyme. She wanted more than anything to run up the stairs after Frederick and finish their conversation, but all she could do was sit, listen, and try not to look too distracted.

Blessedly, Mary came to the end of her thought and was momentarily distracted by some question Charles had asked her. Meanwhile, Captain Benwick seemed to have captured the interest of the Musgrove girls, and Anne saw her opportunity. She decided to go for a walk, but she had to go to her room first to get her shawl. She started to declare her intent to her companions and take her leave, but a quick glance around the room proved that no one was paying her any attention anyway, so she left as quietly as she could.

Anne made her way to the stairs and headed up. However, just as she was about to turn the corner into the upstairs hallway, Frederick appeared before her, going the other way. There was a momentary silence between them while they both recovered from the shock of the other's unexpected appearance before Anne asked, "Have you finished your letters, Captain?"

It took a moment before her question registered with Frederick, but when it did, he nodded. To Anne's surprise, however, he looked somewhat embarrassed and averted his gaze from hers. All he said was, "I have. I am now going for a walk… Down to the shore." He looked back up at Anne, his gaze intense. For a few seconds he simply stared at her, then he abruptly turned and left.

Anne was left alone at the top of the stairs, watching him go in bewilderment. She was unsure what he had meant or why he had told her that, but she tried to shake off the confusion and headed to her room. Once there, Anne pushed the door open quickly. To her confusion, she heard some papers rustle when she did so. Anne pushed the door closed and looked around for the source of the sound. Her eyes soon landed on a folded piece of paper that had been moved by the door. It looked as if the paper had been slipped under her door when it was closed and then displaced when she opened it.

Curious, Anne moved to pick up the paper. She started when she saw the writing on the outside of the paper. In a handwriting she knew all too well were the words, "_Miss A.E._"

Anne's heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she unfolded the paper and began to read.

* * *

Meanwhile, an anxious Frederick paced back and forth along the pathway of the retaining wall above the water. He prayed that no one from the inn had followed him. He feared his curt explanations and half-sentences declaring his intent to go for a _solitary _walk had bewildered the group in the breakfast room, and he sincerely hoped none of them had been curious enough to follow him.

On top of this worry, his heart was filled with a thousand concerns about Anne. Had she seen his letter? She had appeared to be on her way back to her room, so he thought she must have found it, but he could not know for sure. Even if she had found it, had she understood that he meant for her to follow him when he had said he was going for a walk? Frederick thought she knew him well enough to understand his meaning, at least once she found the letter, yet he worried. And even if she had understood him, would she be able to leave the inn unnoticed? He had struggled to get the others to let him go, and Frederick prayed Anne found a better way out.

Even putting aside his logistical concerns, Frederick did not know what to expect of Anne's response. He still did not know for sure how she felt, and he worried about how she might receive the letter. Would she be pleased? Would she be embarrassed? Insulted? He had no idea, and the frustrating inability to do anything about it was almost more than he could bear.

Frederick wished he could have said everything to Anne in person, but it had become more and more clear that he would never get the chance to do so. The letter had been his last resort, the only means by which he could speak to her and tell her everything that was in his heart.

Beset by these overwhelming concerns, Frederick simply paced up and down the walkway, unable to answer the questions in his mind or quiet the beating of his heart.

* * *

When Anne finished reading the letter, she knew not what to think. She read it a few more times, desperately trying to convince herself that it was real.

Was it real?

Frederick still loved her…

How could it possibly be real?

Anne gently folded the letter and put it in her chest for safekeeping. With that small task complete, she was at a loss for what to do. A million possibilities raced through her mind, each one more fantastic than the rest, before finally she remembered what Frederick had said only moments before. Suddenly Anne realized what his look had meant. He had been telling her where he would be.

He wanted her to come find him.

Anne grabbed her shawl in haste and turned toward her door, but then she stopped herself. What if that was not what he meant? She was fairly sure it was, but then it had been so long since they had really known each other, and Anne feared she might have misinterpreted him. There had been a time where she had always known what was in his heart, but it had been so long... She had been wrong about his feelings for her so far. Might she be wrong about this?

Fear paralyzed Anne for a moment, but then she forced herself to overcome it. She_ had_ to find Frederick, even if he hadn't meant for her to follow him. Her heart left her no choice. Finally determined, Anne opened her door and closed it quietly behind her, anxious not to alert the others downstairs to her movements.

Thankfully, when conversing with the kitchen maid the previous day, Anne had found out that there was a way out of the inn via the kitchen that avoided the main rooms. Anne blessed her good fortune and silently thanked the girl who had told her this. She knew there was no way she could walk through the breakfast room and leave unmolested. She would never be able to tell the rest of the party she was going for a walk without at least one of them insisting on accompanying her, an eventuality which Anne desperately wished to avoid. Grateful for the knowledge of the back exit, Anne hastened down the stairs as quietly as possible and made her way outside. Breathing in the fresh air, Anne headed for the shore.

* * *

Frederick, still pacing, felt as if he had waited an eternity, though it had likely not been more than a few minutes. His worries and doubts prolonged every second into eternity, and eventually Frederick thought he had been waiting so long that he nearly convinced himself she wasn't coming. Perhaps she had misunderstood his comment about the walk, or maybe she didn't see the letter. He tried plan out what he should do next, but he had no idea. He had put everything he had into that letter; there wasn't much left of him.

What if she did not come?

Growing more anxious by the moment, Frederick elongated his pacing to stride all the way to the end of the sea wall. He stared out to sea for a few moments, contemplating what to do. If she did not come, he would never know why. How could he return to the inn and face her without knowing whether she had even read the letter? Or worse…

What if she read the letter but she disapproved of it?

The boats floating on the horizon and the birds circling the sea had no answers for the questions slowly eating away at Frederick's heart. Not even the beautiful view of the sea that he loved could bring Frederick peace. For a moment, Frederick almost regretted writing the letter. Perhaps he should have waited for a chance to talk to Anne in person, should such a chance have ever occurred. At least that way he would not have suffered this dreadful, anxious wait. At least, then he would have had her answer immediately, and he would not be left wondering.

What if she does not feel the same?

Eventually, sure that Anne was not coming, Frederick resigned himself to returning to the inn. With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Frederick turned around to head back up the walk that lead away from the water.

Upon turning, though, Frederick saw a small figure coming toward him along the wall. Before he could even make out who it was, his heart supplied the answer. He sighed in utter relief and had to restrain himself from running to meet her in the middle. Instead, he strode purposefully toward the approaching figure, unable to control the grin on his face.

When Anne saw him turn around, she too had to restrain herself from running. She saw him walking towards her and quickly glanced around, thankful to find that no one else was in sight. She kept walking and finally met him in the middle of the walkway. Frederick wanted to say something, but he had no words left to say.

After a few moments of breathlessness, Anne quietly asked, "are you in earnest?" He was still quiet, so she added, "Everything you said in the letter… Did you mean it?"

Frederick smiled down at her and gently took both her hands in his. "Every word," he whispered.

There were tears in Anne's eyes, and she found herself unable to meet his eyes any longer. She wanted to ask him how he could forgive her, how he could still love her, but it was too much for her at the moment. She looked down at the ground and whispered, "Oh Frederick, I'm sorry…"

Frederick shook his head, cutting her off with a soft, "No. Don't be." He dropped one of her hands and used his free hand to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look back at him. Once again he started to say something, but once again he found that he could think of nothing more to say.

Anne did not need him to say more. His letter had contained everything she had longed to hear for eight years but had despaired of ever hearing again. As she looked into his eyes, however, she couldn't help but ask, "why didn't you say something before now?"

Frederick sighed. "When we first met again at Uppercross," he said, "I was blind to my own feelings. Perhaps I was intentionally blind but… I was convinced I had forgotten you." He paused a minute before adding, "I would still have been blind to my own feelings if I had not gotten a glimpse of yours."

Anne blushed. "Benwick told you what I said," she quietly stated.

Frederick nodded. "He did. And I'm afraid my reaction to his account was not as indifferent as I might have hoped." Anne laughed quietly and Frederick grinned before adding, "he guessed the rest."

Anne sighed. "I think, perhaps," she said, "a part of me hoped he would tell you." Frederick looked at her in confusion, so she continued, "I thought a lot about why I told him what I did, when I have not breathed a word of this to anyone in all these years." She paused and looked into his eyes before adding, "I think a part of me wanted you to know."

Frederick smiled lovingly at her. "Well, whatever your reason," he said, "I'm glad you did. If you hadn't, we would not be here." He gazed into her eyes for a moment before closing his own and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. He let the kiss linger for a second longer than necessary, relishing the feeling of having her in his arms once more after so long. When he finally pulled back, Anne rested her head on his chest and he hugged her to him, gently putting his head on top of hers.

"Anne," Frederick whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "marry me." Anne picked her head up, pulling herself back just enough so she could meet his eyes. She said nothing, only smiling at him through her tears, so Frederick added, "I'm not letting you go this time."

Anne laughed quietly and said, "I'm not going anywhere," before reaching up to kiss him again.

Frederick held his arm out to Anne, and the two strolled arm-in-arm along the water's edge, alternately talking about their past and making plans for their future. Anne marveled at Frederick's ability to forgive her for the past, and Frederick considered himself the luckiest man on earth to have still retained her affection.

Eventually, however, tea time neared, and the couple realized they needed to head back to the inn before someone came looking for them. Reluctantly, they made their way back toward the inn, each wishing they could spend the rest of the day strolling alone along the seaside together.

As they neared the inn, Frederick stopped and pulled Anne around a corner so they were out of sight. He gently pulled her to him and kissed her slowly one last time.

Anne pulled back, laughter lacing her features. "Pulling a lady into an alley for a kiss?" she teased, "that's very unlike you, Captain Wentworth."

Frederick laughed too. "I think we've earned it," he said. Then, after a pause, he whispered, "I love you, Anne."

The look in her eyes and the smile on her lips was more than enough to tell him she felt the same.

* * *

_A/N: As many of you guessed in the comments, I couldn't bring myself to change the letter… it's just too perfect as it is XD Hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway!_


	10. Chapter 10

Still holding Anne's hand, Frederick started to pull her back around the corner to the inn. He was stopped, however, when Anne pulled his hand back. "Wait," she quietly protested when she realized he meant to lead her inside. She nodded toward the inn. "Shall we tell them?"

Frederick caught her meaning and looked contemplative. Would it be proper to inform their companions so soon? He was unsure. "Perhaps I should speak to your father first?" he asked.

Anne shrugged and gave him a sad smile. "I do not think my father will much care," she admitted.

Frederick groaned. Though he had not spoken of it, the Elliots' disregard of Anne secretly infuriated him. Her father would probably be all too happy to get rid of her, Frederick mused, for he probably saw her as nothing but an extra expense. It irked Frederick that Anne's family could not see her worth. She deserved much better than them. However, he put these thoughts out of his mind and smiled, trying to raise Anne's spirits. "Well then," he said, "we shall tell them if you wish."

Anne looked hesitant. "But _what_ shall we tell them?"

Frederick then understood her hesitancy. Since they had been reacquainted, the two had all but ignored each other. There had been no semblance of courtship between them, and as far as their companions were aware, they were no more than slight acquaintances. Aside from Benwick, none of them knew of Anne and Frederick's past. How could they simply walk in and announce their intention to marry? Their sudden engagement would be bound to raise suspicion if announced without explanation.

Frederick sighed. "Well, I suppose we can just tell them of our engagement and let them draw what conclusions they will," he said. "Although that will likely draw some gossip."

Anne grinned. "I am not afraid of their gossip," she promised. "If only you knew the amount of gossip I have endured about you recently," she added teasingly.

"About me?" Frederick asked, his face incredulous.

Anne laughed and was about to reply, but she was stopped by the sound of the inn's door opening. Voices emerged from the building, and Anne and Frederick both realized that their friends were headed toward them. The pair jumped apart like the guilty lovers they were and had just managed to regain some propriety when their party rounded the corner.

Louisa was the first to spot them. "Captain Wentworth!" she called pleasantly. "You are returned from your walk?"

Frederick was about to reply to the overture, but Mary cut him off when she spotted her sister. "Anne!" she exclaimed, "where have you been?" She rushed to her sister's side, a look of anguish on her face. "We thought you to be in your room, but when I went up to fetch you for a walk, you were gone! Oh what a fright you have given us! We thought something had happened to you and were just setting out to find you, and then here you are!" Mary was breathless, though whether that was owing to the speech or to her assumed hardship was unclear. "Really Anne," she chastised, "you should not go disappearing like that! It is so unkind of you to give us such a fright."

Anne bore her sister's chastisement with grace. Though she doubted that her disappearance had truly caused her sister so very much concern, Anne nonetheless attempted to mollify her. "My dear Mary," she said soothingly, "I assure you I am well. Why don't you come back inside and have some tea to calm your nerves?"

Mary submitted to her elder sister's guidance, evidently pleased with the attention her speech had gained her. She willingly followed Anne back into the inn and allowed herself to be ushered into a chair while Anne called for some tea. When she had settled, however, she began to look at Anne suspiciously. At last she asked, "Where did you get off to?"

Anne was unsure of how to explain her disappearance. She blushed and looked across the room to Frederick with a shy smile.

Frederick caught the meaning of her look. He returned her smile before declaring, "she was with me."

All eyes turned to him. Louisa echoed, "with you?"

"Yes," Frederick confirmed. "And we have… come to an understanding." He looked back at Anne for confirmation before adding, "Anne has given me the honor of accepting my proposal of marriage."

The room was silent for a long moment. Henrietta and Louisa looked back and forth between Frederick and Anne, their countenances skeptical. Mary stared at her sister in shock. Harville stared open-mouthed at Frederick, unsure of what to make of his friend's declaration. Benwick beamed.

Mary was the first to speak, though all she did was utter a surprised "dear me."

Her words seemed to spark everyone into action. Harville and Benwick pulled Frederick aside to congratulate him while the three ladies surrounded Anne. When Louisa had recovered from her shock, she exclaimed, "I thought you said you had no designs on Captain Wentworth, Anne!"

Anne blushed. "I had none," she replied honestly. She could not stop her eyes from traveling across the room to where Frederick when she quietly added, "for I did not think it possible."

* * *

After dinner that evening, as the party was engaged in general conversation, Captain Benwick caught Anne's attention. She excused herself from the conversation and joined him on the perimeter of the room. When she approached him, he said, "I think an apology is in order, Miss Anne." Anne frowned in confusion, so Benwick added, "Wentworth tells me you know that I broke your confidence-"

He would have said more, but Anne cut him off with a shake of her head and a kind smile. "There is no need of an apology, Captain Benwick," she assured him. "You have not injured me. In fact, I owe a great deal of my current happiness to your revelation of our conversation." Anne smiled at him. "I will not hear of an apology."

Benwick bowed in thanks. After a pause, he said, "I am happy for the both of you. You both deserve to be happy."

Anne smiled. "You deserve to be happy too, Captain," she said quietly. Benwick shook his head sadly and would have spoken, but Anne continued, "you said before that it was the fate of some of us to love and to lose, and you were right. But if I have learned anything through all this, it is that there is always another chance at happiness, if only you are willing to find it."

Benwick looked unconvinced. "I do not know that there is another chance for me, Miss Anne," he admitted sadly.

"I once thought the same of myself," Anne assured him. "Even when Frederick returned, I thought it impossible that we could ever have the happiness we once shared. I dare say he thought so too. But it was only because we were not able to see what was right in front of us that we thought we had no chance." Anne sighed. "That is the thing about loss," she said, "it preoccupies our hearts with misery until we are blind to the possibility of leaving such misery behind." She paused, waiting until she had Benwick's full attention before continuing, "There may be a chance for you to be happy again too, Captain Benwick. Do not close your heart to the possibility forever."

Before Benwick could reply, Anne was called to join the rest of the party. Benwick watched her go with a contemplative smile. Perhaps she was right. Though some loved and lost in this life, perhaps loss was not the end. Maybe second chances do exist for those who dare to fight for them. Perhaps the loss of the person who held one's heart was not a death sentence, but could rather be the beginning of a new story, a new chapter of one's life. Benwick watched as his friend smiled at the girl who held his heart and wondered for the first time whether it was possible that loss could be overcome. Maybe, he thought, second chances are possible, and maybe force so powerful as love can truly conquer even the most bitter loss.


End file.
